I’ve been having a lot of fun sending some of my 35mm film photographs to a twitterbot that utilizes artificial intelligence to add color to black-and-white photos. The bot is called @colorize_bot (not to be confused with a long-dormant bot named @colorizebot). The results are pretty cool:
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so happy to see my bestie, a genuine Good People™, all married up with someone who is just as wonderful, kind, and brilliant. They are fantastic partners and complements to each other, and I'm excited for the world they are building together. all my love to R&B 🎶♥
Everything Now should be handed out to everyone who gets off a plane at LAX.
a review blurb from Jim Gavin, author of Middle Men and creator of Lodge 49
although the website description on Amazon Prime for Johnny Mnemonic (on the left) appears to be from another Keanu Reeves movie (Babes in Toyland, 1986). But seriously, check this out, 9/10 (4.5/5) vs. 5.7/10 😂
first things first, gotta appreciate a dated futuristic movie that takes place in the year you are currently watching it. compare and contrast vision and reality etc.
birds' eye shots: keanu in a red room with green velvet bed, keanu in a black & marble bathroom
look! at! this! the profile, the contrast, the lines, the lack of sideburn
this is 100% how computing and virtual reality have manifested in 2021, so good job Robert Longo
what a cast of characters: femme hero/distressed damsel in a chainmail crop top, a Christian religious fanatic killer-for-hire played by DOLPH LUNDGREN who is addicted to body modification and uses the proceeds of killing not toward religion as one would imagine but toward making himself more and more machine-like all while spewing the Gospel and word of the Lord as cover/justification (... 😶), Ice-T as the no-nonsense leader of a group of underground hackers/anarchists
and a totally whacked out final sequence starring art film queen Barbara Sukowa (who was married to the film's director Robert Longo)
Add this to the list of words that are spelled/pronounced in ironic and cruel ways like lisp, dyslexia, and stutter.
I came across this vintage poster from a Russian gym teacher today. It featured step by step instructions for how to “?????-????” or “break dance”. I immediately had to convert it into a gif.
The original image was shared via Soviet Visuals on Twitter.
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Have you ever seen a 6-foot tall dandelion forest
The most never-ending yet satisfying
The pha a a a a a a ntom of the opera is there inside your mind
🥠the good kind of pithy🥠
Give us a kiss
Chugga chugga choo choo
new york is b a c k baybee
Back when I worked in high-rise construction, I learned that one LEED point can be earned by designing a building with less reflective windows, in order to deter bird collision. NYT article about the advocacy/importance of the issue And here’s the most recent update on a historic proposed initiative passed by NY city council regarding glass skyscrapers in NYC (though can’t find an update since December 2019, so I wonder if COVID-19 threw a wrench in furthering legislation) and I don't have anything on snakes being run over by cars, but it was another directly human-caused animal death that I encountered this week (；′⌒`)
I was practicing a new yo-yo move called a Möbius Kickflip, but I kept dropping my yo-yos. So I bought one of those pads for standing desks to help soften the landing. I had fun creating a yo-yo beat using the sounds of the dropped yo-yo in this video.
Here is another version of the trick, with less music but more flair.
Once, as a New Year’s resolution, Young-White turned on read receipts, which notify the people you’re texting with when you’ve seen their messages. “The idea was, this will make me more accountable, so I won’t keep forgetting to respond,” he said. Instead, he forgot that the setting was on: when he let a conversation lag, it seemed like a snub. He said, “It was actually Bo”—the comedian Bo Burnham, another connoisseur of the ways in which the Internet is warping human relationships—“who told me my read receipts were on. He went, ‘I assumed it was a power move.’ ”
I’m so excited about the Dune movie that I’m doing everything I can to avoid seeing any trailers or photos before its release, but the news of Dune NFTs still managed to spoil the film for me.
Why would Legendary Entertainment use NFTs, a technology famous for its high carbon footprint, to promote a story about the dangers destroying our planet?From my twitter page https://twitter.com/DocPop/status/1436452792499990530
The marketing team should have seen this coming though. Look at the reactions when Aphex Twin, The Gorillaz, Charmin, Sega, and The Long Now Foundation released NFTs. NFTs offer no added value to a piece of art and are contributing to our climate crisis in the process. Given the negativity towards NFTs, I don’t know why any brand would want to be associated with them.
One common trend in all of these disastrous NFT launches is the follow up tweet announcing that the company knows that Ethereum, the most common blockchain used for NFTs, is a waste of tremendous energy, but they’ll be sure to do some carbon offsets to make up for the damage. Like, why not just cancel the NFT in the first place?
The post The Dune NFT disaster (or how Not To market a Film) appeared first on Doc Pop's Weblog.
I’ve been seasoning store bought pretzels with my own spices lately and love the results. This works great with Szechuan peppercorn, Chinese five spice, chili powder, or anything else you can think up. For the above recipe I use some “Everything But The Bagel” spice from Trader Joes.
If nearly all information does not match what the vaccination agency entered, even because of a typo, it will not generate the pass. Some 4 percent of users who tried to get passes in the app’s opening months were unable to, the state said.
Not until June, the contract indicates, did the app make it possible for someone who has periods in their name (like T.J.) to retrieve a pass.
After three attempts, in which I reentered the same information each time, it worked.
The hiccups in the state's immunization database, which are causing Excelsior Pass registrants to see a dreaded "We couldn't find your pass" screen appear on the registration website, are apparently being caused by a mix of clerical errors, inconsistent data gathering and the occasional cases in which people with identical names — but different birthdates — are being rejected because the system has merged their identities.
holy matrimony 👰💒🤵 congrats to amanda brian ♥
Out of sight, out of mind
my friend's upper-floor apartment flooded this week because of Hurricane Ida...from the roof down the central stairwell 😰. She's okay though frustrated, and temporarily displaced. we were okay in our neighborhood, but are horrified at and shaken by the chaos being wreaked by climate change
rotting or sunburnt ???
ajax + c + p (not our dog, Isabelle's dog)
bassam tariq in the background, at my beloved film forum
accidentally matchy babies
a fondest, funnest, funniest, funkiest bday to my dearest reid
Möbius is a substyle of yo-yoing that I created back in 2000. It’s a quick release method that allows you to easily open up the slipknot from around your finger and do tricks inside the fingerloop. In the already niche world of yo-yoing, Möbius is a niche of a niche.
This month, some yo-yoers and myself are trying to promote Möbius using the hashtag #moebiusseptember. I’ve shared a few of my favorite tricks, like this one:
I’m also doing a name this trick contest for that möbius trick on my Patreon. I also shared this picture trick on Twitter.
I’ll be posting much more möbius tricks on youtube and instagram this month.
Since John Cleese is releasing a new TV series called John Cleese: Cancel Me, which claims to “explore why a new ‘woke’ generation is trying to rewrite the rules on what can and can’t be said.”, I want to tell you about the time he used British libel laws to silence a critic.
In 2002, Peter Clark wrote an editorial article for The Evening Standard titled “Has John Cleese Lost His Funny Bone?”. The critic takes jabs at Cleese for being stuck in a series of mediocre films and tv shows since the eighties. “With the exception of A Fish Called Wanda,” Peter Clark wrote, “the laughs have died in our throats.”
Of course you know where this is going.
John Cleese sued the The Evening Standard for libel in 2003 and won (?!). The judge, Mr Justice Eady, stated the article did not have any affect on Cleese’s career:
“I doubt in the light of the evidence, despite his own apprehensions, that his well-established reputation here and elsewhere will have been significantly damaged, if at all.”Mr Justice Eady
Despite this lack of evidence, the Judge still ruled in Cleese’s favor stating “If they choose to attack someone of particular sensitivity or vulnerability, they must, generally speaking, be ready to take the consequences.”. The Evening Standard was forced to pay £13,500 in libel damages. According to an article in The Guardian, The Standard also faced a bill of approximately £120,000 related to this case.
“He may, perhaps, by some people’s standards, be regarded as unduly sensitive about this unpleasant article but his hurt feelings are certainly genuine.”Mr Justice Eady
So yeah, the guy who is making an entire show about “cancel culture” once used a frivolous law suit to silence a critic. Apparently the judge in this case has a long history of using libel laws to prevent freedom of speech and the case itself is such a shocking abuse of using libel laws to censor critics that Brian Winston wrote about it in his book, “The Right To Offend”.
The article itself has almost completely been wiped from existence. The Evening Standard removed it from their site and all the archives seem to be deleted. I was only able to find one single copy of the article still online, thanks to a nearly 20 year old post on a Monty Python fan site called The Daily Llama. Just to make sure there are two copies online, I’m posting the original article in it’s entirety below (as found on The Daily Llama):
“So, has John Cleese lost his funny bone? How the legendary comedian faces humiliation after his latest TV flop” by Pete Clark published in the Evening Standard – London on 11 April 2002 (Section A, p. 32)
THERE are not so many British comedy heroes around that we can afford to be snippy about any of them. However, an exception has to made to this rule in the case of John Cleese.
The straight-faced buffoon who silly-walked his way up and down the nation’s collective funny bone, the complex bigot Basil Fawlty who, by turns, barked and cowered through the finest sitcom ever to appear on television, has now become the most disastrous bore. The news that his latest comedy series has been shown the door after only two episodes is simply confirmation of a sad truth that was already widely whispered: Cleese’s humour has fallen off its perch, he is now officially an ex-comedian, his only gags are old ones repeated parrot-fashion.
It falls to us to savour the irony of the fact that the fall which ended his decline should take place in America. Last year, Cleese announced that he was leaving these rain-lashed shores for the brain-softening sunshine of California. Apart from the weather, the principal reason he gave was that the British had somehow contrived to lose their sense of humour. Citing his height and satirical bent as talents which had mysteriously transformed themselves into intolerable burdens, Cleese set off on the yellow brick road without so much as a kiss goodbye.
Now that he has run into a roadblock, it would be churlish not to smile.
Americans who used to bend our ears about how much they loved Fawlty and our Monty Python – heavy stress always on the second syllable of the second word – have turned on Cleese. His puzzlingly entitled show, Wednesday 9.30 (8.30 Central), has drawn vitriol from a nation that he must have thought had milk and honey coursing in its veins. “Bad” and “desperate” are just two of the adjectives buzzing angrily in the ether. The hubris of this perma-tanned, wannabe Bob Hope has been richly rewarded.
Beyond the fleeting pleasure in seeing a bitcher bitched at, there is no satisfaction to be gained from watching a talent on the skids.
Anyone who has maintained even a cursory interest in Cleese’s career will know that the past 25 years have been an agonisingly slow death. With the exception of A Fish Called Wanda, the laughs have died in our throats.
Outside the straight-to-video quagmire, Fierce Creatures is the worst film many people have seen. Clockwise was OK, except that one could see the mechanism. The Sainsbury’s commercials stopped me from entering a shop which I knew had perfectly decent butter and ice-cream.
These, however, were merely symptoms of a deeper malaise. The root of the problem was that Cleese decided that comedy was something he could knock off in his spare time, and that quality time should be spent at the deep end of life’s swimming pool. He formed a company which made videos for corporate clients and lots of money for him. He went to a shrink obsessively, possibly in the belief that inside every tall satirist is a small Woody Allen trying to get out. He married and divorced a few women, and started writing books full of condescending psychobabble.
He began to analyse humour as if it were susceptible to a microscope. The humour drained from him visibly, as if he were attached to a reverse life-support system.
The message for Cleese is simple: come home. We knew you were having a funny turn when you suggested that a comedian could nurture his gifts in California. There are no banana skins there, all impromptu mayhem and spontaneous drama – the very stuff of his comic genius – have been surgically removed. The only answer is to come home and face the weather and the critics.
Our weird neuroses and peculiar accommodation with life will feed your muse again.
Like mushrooms, our humour thrives in the dark and damp. California will reduce you to a wrinkled prune. If you don’t return, all is lost. You will have reserved your place in history, and it will be as a latterday Norman Wisdom. That would be a shame.
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towns we visited: Lenox, Lee, Becket, Stockbridge, Great Barrington
a ghost tour at The Mount, Edith Wharton's home. It was thundering and lightning-ing, and the air had a damp heat to it. I wasn't exactly scared, but I didn't feel right the whole time. butterflies in my stomach, skin-crawling spine-tingling unease. I also happened to be reading Lincoln in the Bardo, which added to the sense that the dead are ~among us~
Barbarella on the hotel TV. I had always heard of Barbarella, but probably wouldn't have ever sought it out myself——am having a good time with the hotel movies these days.
Art at Shakespeare and Co. Such a fun, complicated play exploring how we define ourselves, often using the people around us, and the sometimes paradoxical struggles of friendship. A very you-can't-live-with-them, you-can't-live-without-them, hell-is-other-people type of play, though with a hopeful swing up in the end? Also, we learned from a local that the Shakespeare & Co. campus used to be the site of an extremist Christian cult, here’s some more on that local lore: - https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/local/1987/09/19/bible-speaks-property-to-be-sold/6132a3b9-fce4-477f-94f0-ff62c18da1ad/ - https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1987-10-03-me-3013-story.html - https://www.berkshireeagle.com/news/local/controversial-reverend-dies/article_15531797-8016-5ded-875d-0aff51960059.html - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_re_The_Bible_Speaks
$16 haul from finders keepers
Tanglewood picnic under the stars, the BSO playing Figaro Gets a Divorce, a piano concerto by Ravel, and Elgar's Enigma Variations. There were a huge number of people picnicking and I was amazed at how silent and reverent the crowd was the entire evening.
LaTasha Barnes' The Jazz Continuum at Jacob's Pillow. We signed up for a workshop in the morning, which meant dancing with the very same dancers we would see perform later that day, learning some of the easier steps from their show. While LaTasha Barnes taught from the front of the room, Duane Lee Holland danced masked up with me and Peter, walking us through the steps. I have a ballet background, so it was liberating experiencing a different mindset to dance: dance steps not as rules and structure, but as gentle underpinnings of physical exploration, as expression of joy and freedom; dance performance not as rarefied exhibition but as participative and communal movement.
caught in the act: peter practicing some of what we learned from LaTasha Barnes
I just wanted to share this old track by The Slew, a turntable based rock band featuring Kid Koala and Dynamite D. The song is called “It’s All Over” and the music video was shot on a Fisher Price PXL2000, an old videocamera that was designed for children and records entirely on audio cassette tapes.
The whole album is sick. Check it out on BandcampThe Slew – 100% by Kid Koala
Or watch this live performance from 2009 featuring Chris Ross and Myles Heskett, the former rhythm section for Wolfmother.
Josh Yee recently post this beautiful tribute video to yo-yoers who have passed away in the past 20 years or so. That’s about how long I’ve been in the seen, so it was nice to be reminded of some of my friends I no longer get to chat with. I was happy to see Ryan “Houdini” Monson in there. I think about him frequently, mostly from our chats or his old posts, but I hadn’t actually watched any his old videos in a while. It was great to see him again.
Thanks, Josh, for sharing this wonderful video.
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say something nice, I dare you